


Long Live the King

by keiti221



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Attempted Murder, I'm just gonna put:, M/M, Multiple times, Mutual Pining, Secrets, War, and it's not gross like medieval times, because there's a ball in one of the chapters, but there's not any actual magic, human galra, it's a cross between fairy tale and medieval?, tyranny of zarkon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-01-06 02:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12202026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiti221/pseuds/keiti221
Summary: Keith is the son of the Galra king - only he's never belonged among the royals. Prone to sneaking out of the castle for a spot by the river, he one day finds himself face to face with a rebel soldier with a plan to kill him. Only the soldier doesn't know who he is, and Keith doesn't know the man is a rebel. When both their world's lack the spark they seek, they find it in each other, unaware that their fates are destined to collide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a direct result of the poll I put out with the last chapter of Poms & Parties - thanks so much to all who participated! I'm very excited to get into this, and I hope you readers will enjoy it too.
> 
> Unfortunately, because of school, I cannot promise any consistent updates. Just know that I love this story already, and am eager to write it, so I'm hoping for at least monthly postings. (please hold me to it! even if it means messaging me on tumblr)

Footsteps run toward her, hurried, impatient. She interrupts the pattern with the swipe of her arm, collecting the small child. His squeals dissolve into giggles as he settles against her shoulder, head resting in the crook of her neck.

“Mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Will you tell me the story of the fairy cave?”

The weary woman glances at the bucket and rag at her feet with a sigh before putting on a happy face for her son. “Of course, darling.” She dumps the contents out, the filthy water sloshing against the tile flooring, and flips the bucket over, seating herself on the sturdy wood and her son on her knee. “Once upon a time, in the middle of the forest, a village of fairies lived. Every day, they left their homes to collect pebbles from streams from other nations. Many, many, many years passed before the fairies were finished. But when they were done, a mountain was completed, pieced together by their gatherings. Sadly, some of the fairies were too tired from the work to go on, and they perished. This is what created the stream that strikes through the mountain, and supplies the eastern part of the Galra nation with fresh water and fish.”

The boy squirms. “Mama, get to the cave!”

She laughs, “Fine. As for the rest of the fairies, they continued their work, carving out a cave behind the water fall. Here is where they made their home for years to come. But when the Galra nation was born, they gave up their home and became a part of it. In this cave, there is magic, the magic of true love. Legend tells us, that if we spend a whole summer day in the cave, among the spirit of the fairies, and then bathe in the waters they blessed, we will find our true love soon after.”

“Just like you!”

“Yes, darling, just like me.”

**~~~**

“Darling?”

The boy picking at his hemline doesn’t look up.

“Keith.”

His eyes flicker at his name, and he raises his head. “Yes, Mama?”

“Lord Zarkon has no use for you here. Go outside, do something fun for once. You’re nearly thirteen, enjoy your youth while you have it.”

“But your work-”

“Is well handled. Go. I’ll be fine.”

With a sigh, Keith hops off the window sill, maneuvering his way toward the gardens. He wanders the perimeter a few times, scoping out the castle staff at hand, and wondering how much fruit he could pocket without getting caught. When the gardeners are out of sight, Keith hurries toward the orange trees, but something trips him. He lands face first in the dirt, dazed. Looking up, he notices that a brick is what caught his foot. He picks it up, turning it over and scanning the wall to see where it originated from. Not far from his spot is a collection of lemon trees. Behind the largest is the home of the brick, or rather it was. Currently, there’s a wide hole, the span of half a dozen bricks missing in both directions. Keith glances over his shoulder and ducks into the hole. He has no trouble fitting at all – it’s enormous. On the other side is a metal fence, but that proves easily conquered as well, with its wide bars. He sets the brick down inside a bush and continues to walk.

With the sun bright over his head, he explores a forest he’s only seen in paintings and heard of in stories. To him, the trees feel as tall as the castle itself. They stretch toward the sky with unending height, towering over him as he treks deeper into their midst. Keith doesn’t stop walking until the sun is directly in front of him. But the apparent time isn’t what stops him. He comes to a halt in front of a river. It’s narrow enough for him to cross, but he dares not. Instead, he follows it upstream. Pine after pine pass him as he diligently tracks the path of the water. His journey ends at a beginning.

Looming tall and wide, a mountain sits in Keith’s path. He crosses his arms, assessing the fixture of nature until the sounds of the waterfall soothe him into complacency. Removing a rather worn boot, Keith sticks one foot in the river, testing how deep it goes. His foot doesn’t reach the bottom before the water is up to his thigh. Suddenly nervous, he pulls himself back, tugging his boot back on and hurrying away. Still, he can’t help but look back at the location, knowing he’ll return when he’s braver.

Keith eventually finds his way back to the castle. It’s dark, and he’s worried his mother will be angry. He sneaks inside the same way he left, and hastily makes his way to the section of the castle where he lives with his mothers. A commotion behind the great wooden doors freeze him in his place.

A booming voice echoes within, “HOW COULD YOU HAVE LOST HIM?”

A crack rattles a second voice, “ _Please_! I only told him to go play in the gardens! I don’t know what could have-”

“SILENCE! Do you know what this could do to me? I put my trust in you, Lenora, and  _this_  is how you pay it back? By letting my BASTARD run around in the gardens?!”

Sudden silence stills the air.

The man’s voice is calmer, but no less intimidating. “So help me, if he got out of the castle, I will make sure that he is a liability no more.”

“Please, just give me time to find him. He must be here! I-”

Keith, full of blind heroism, slowly pulls a door open. He barely peeks inside before his mother is in tears, beckoning him to her.

“Oh, darling! Where were you?” She kisses his cheeks and forehead, before pulling him down into a crushing hug.

He answers with a wheeze, “I fell asleep behind one of the bushes after dropping rocks down the gopher holes. I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t think I’d sleep that long.”

She doesn’t respond, only shoots a glance toward the king staring down at her.

“Keep him  _in_ the castle from now on. We don’t need a repeat of this.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” As the king leaves, she pulls herself and Keith to their feet, towing him along. “Time for bed.”

**~~~**

Watching Zarkon pace, Keith yawns, eyes threatening to close. He drops his head to the end of the chaise and memorizes the pattern in which the king is stepping. One, two, one, two, skip, swivel, one two, one, two, skip, swivel, one. Sitting up, Keith stretches his neck, groaning at the pull in his shoulders. He’s itching to leave the castle. There’s some sort of banquet coming up and he’s been kept him away from the action. Keith vaguely remembers the king spewing some excuse as to why he should be not seen or heard until the whole thing is over. He knows the real reason.

“Father?” Even after three years of being allowed to acknowledge the king as that, the word feels foreign on Keith’s tongue. He waits for Zarkon to turn toward him.

“What is it?”

“Am I needed here or may I leave?”

“You mean leave the castle?”

“Probably.”

“Do you remember, if you’re recognized as a castle denizen, what you should say?”

“Of course, Father.”

“Then you may go.”

Without so much as a thank you, Keith hops down from his spot and hurries toward the gardens, using his childhood access point as his means of escape. Following the invisible trail he’s patterned into the forest floor, Keith meanders his way toward the mountain east of the castle. He makes it there within a dozen minutes of leaving, blame his excited pace. Sitting in the grass, he peels off his coat and tugs off his boots, hiding them on top of a boulder at the base of the mountain. Tossing his suspenders onto the pile, Keith bends down to his final task, and rolls up his pants, cuffing them mid-calf. With that, he steps into the river, wading directly toward the waterfall. He crosses under with a shiver and shakes out his hair on the other side.

Keith steps into a cave, a modest one that doesn’t stretch more than fifteen feet back and twenty feet wide, but the area is comfortable. Toward the back, after the cave narrows and widens into a nature made hall, Keith settles down on a patch of soft, green moss. He’s visited every month of the year and this spot is always at the peak of nature's perfection.

The glittering black rock is only interrupted by a crack in the mountain’s exterior, but Keith is grateful for that aspect, happy for the light in such a dark place. He reaches toward a ridge in the mountain, dragging a basket from its hiding spot. Dropping it on the ground, Keith pulls out a blanket and a book he stole from the castle libraries. He finds a comfortable position and gets to reading.

When reality sets back in, and Keith is shaking off his sleepiness, it’s later than he expected. Stuffing his belongings into the basket, he returns it to the hiding spot quickly. Starting toward the cave entrance, Keith sloshes through the water in a hurry. He grabs his belongings, tugging each item on in a great rush.

Reaching for his coat, Keith stiffens, eyes widening. He lets out a huff of disbelief when he realizes that a knife is pressed to his spine.

“I’ve never seen you here before. Who are you?” The man’s voice is urgent, tinged with fear.

Dropping the coat back into its place, Keith raises his hands. “I’m just a citizen.”

“Is that why you’re wearing royal boots? I recognize that black leather – only the finest gets sent to the castle.” He digs the tip of the blade into Keith’s skin. “Who are you really?”

Taking a deep breath, Keith speaks slowly, “I’m the son of a diplomat. I come out here to get away from the stress of castle life. There’s only so much bickering someone can take.”

The knife is removed. Keith sighs, slightly trembling. He turns to look at his assailant and his voice dies in his throat. The man before him is young and handsome, but weathered. The visible skin on his arms is marred by scarring – the type earned in wars – and his hair greys at the front. Keith wonders who he might have been to be under that sort of stress.

He hesitates, but ultimately extends his hand. “My name is Keith.”

The other man sheaths his weapon and takes the offering of peace. “Shiro.” He pulls back his hand abruptly. “What are you doing way out here if you belong to the castle? Isn’t there somewhere closer you can go?”

“I suppose so. It’s just, I’ve visited this spot frequently. It’s like a second home at this point.” He glances back at the cavern and frowns. “So I’m not going to abandon it because a man with a knife thinks that me and my expensive shoes don’t belong here.”

Shiro chuckles, “I didn’t mean to imply that you were forbidden from coming back.” He leans against a sky high oak, crossing his arms with a grin. “I only wanted to know who you were and why this location. You’ve answered both of them. No harm, no foul.” He inspects Keith’s face for any defensive changes before continuing, “So, when did you find this place?”

“I was a just a kid. Seven years ago?”

“Running away from the castle all your life, huh?”

Keith manages a laugh, “No. I used to love living in the castle. It's only been the last few years that I’ve hated it.”

Shiro steps closer, watching Keith's expression as he tests the boundaries. “What changed?”

“I officially met my father.” Keith pauses, “So… Why are you here?”

Kicking off his boots, Shiro reaches for the hem of his shirt. “I need a bath.”

“Oh!” Keith stumbles back, blindly grabbing at his coat. “I’ll leave you be then.” He doesn’t want to tear his eyes away, curiosity permeating his thoughts, but the blush on his face threatens to spread. Coat in hand, he turns toward the thick of the forest and rushes off.

**~~~**

The grey walls are hardly a welcome home. Keith sighs as he enters the throne room, on the look out for anyone interesting to talk to. None can be found. His father greets him with a nod before turning back to his meeting with the generals of the army. Keith rolls his eyes at the display before continuing to wander the castle. He stops by the kitchens, but his favorite chef has already returned to his quarters for the night.

Tired, he drags himself to his room. His eyes glaze over the décor, disinterested as always. Dark purple walls beget black curtains and a blazing red bed. If the colors weren't enough, the metal insignias of the Galra empire plastered all over the walls create a gaudy and self righteous space that Keith wishes he had no part in.

Undressing, Keith thinks about his old room, a dinky space that he shared with his mothers. That room was cold all year round, but it was at least filled with love. The thoughts dissolve into painful memories and he shakes his head as if the movement would disperse the negative emotions. Reminiscing is an unwelcome action – it only reminds him of what he’s lost.

He crawls into bed, pulling the soft blankets around his shoulders with a heavy sigh. He’s tired – be it from the walk through the forest or dealing with strangers at the river. Settling down onto the pillows, Keith yawns, consciousness drifting off. He dreams of the trees, the water, and a chance encounter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith is a little paranoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> `3` kisses for comments and kudos. But seriously, thank you guys for the support.

One day, when his father’s attention has not an ounce of time for him, Keith leaves for the mountain again. Halfway there, he remembers the gold in his pockets and diverts his path to the village a mile or so from the head of the river. He arrives just as shops are beginning to open. Listlessly walking around, Keith admires the products – homemade soaps, fresh baked bread, bundles of flowers, baskets full of fruit, among others. He can hardly take everything in. Eventually, he succumbs to the smells, purchasing a loaf of bread from the baker as well as a tray of butter and just finished roast beef from the butcher. With just enough money left over, he buys a bar of soap, the recesses of his memory remembering his mothers’ tall tales about the fairy cavern. He thanks the merchants and hoists his items onto his back, travelling north once again.

Despite the short walk, he reaches behind, ripping free a piece of the warm bread and stuffing it into his mouth with a satisfied groan. It warms his cheeks from the inside out. By the time he’s finished chewing, Keith’s arrived at the falls. He rushes under the water and sets up at the back of the cave, cracking open his book and picking at his food. When the meat is gone, and the bread left in crumbs, he lays down for a nap, with a happy and full stomach.

When he wakes, it’s just past midday. Keith yawns and stretches, joints cracking as he does. Rummaging through his knapsack, he picks up the soap, turning it over in his hands a few times before deciding that a shower in the streams sounds like a good idea; it would wake him up at least. Heading back to the entrance, Keith sloshes over to the bank, leaving his belongings on his trusty boulder before wading back into the water, soap in hand.

The water draws a shiver from Keith. He shudders and laughs at the thrill, but the falls drown out his voice. Their volume also smothers every thought that Keith might have, so he just focuses on the water, mind finally at peace. He scrubs at his skin with the vanilla scented bar, basking in the delicious scent. It’s been a long time since he’s had the ability to simply enjoy a moment, perhaps even a decade. All Keith can do is shut his eyes and revel in the sensation of losing himself in the rush of the river.

The sun sits in the sky a bit lower than when he started before Keith decides it’s time to head back to the castle. He picks his soap up from its spot on a rock behind the falls and starts for the bank. But a shadow chills him worse than the water, stunning him immobile. Keith watches the figure move, side to side. The motion piques his interest; they look like they’re waiting for something. He frowns, observing with narrowed eyes. The shadow bends and steps forward, breaking through the water.

Keith staggers back and hits a patch of pebbles on the riverbed, slipping into the water with a splash.

“Are you okay?”

Floundering, Keith surfaces with a sputter, shocked to see a hand held out to him.

“Well look who it is. It’s Keith, right?”

Flushing, Keith nods, tearing his eyes away from Shiro’s torso and taking his hand. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He pulls his lower lip between his teeth as he inhales deeply, eyes blatantly scanning Keith’s form. “I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again.”

Keith has half a mind to sink down so that the rippling water is covering him more, but already on his feet and under Shiro’s gaze, his options are limited. He shivers out his response. “Did you want to?”

“Of course. You’re the son of a castle diplomat. You must have some fascinating stories to tell. I hoped to convince you to tell me one or two.”

“My stories are boring.”

Shiro laughs, “Don’t be modest. The castle is the main source of drama for the kingdom – why wouldn’t you have something interesting to say.”

Dropping his gaze to the soap in his hands, Keith mutters, “I should probably go.” He starts wading toward the river bank but a hand on his arm stops his movement and his heart.

“I’m sorry if I said something to offend you. I promise I didn’t mean it.” He releases Keith when they lock eyes. “I just know how the hierarchy works, and thought it could be fun to hear more recent stories.”

“My stories aren’t fun. Shiro, I promise you don’t want to hear them.” The corners of Shiro’s mouth turn down and a pang of guilt strikes Keith. He lifts his voice, “I tell you what. If we see each other again, you can hear a story.” He backs up toward land. “But you won’t hear another word from me until then.”

Shiro grins. “You act like I need incentive to want to see you again.”

Shocked, Keith blushes and covers his face with his hands, hurrying under the water fall and away from Shiro. He climbs out of the river and pulls on his clothes in a rush, Shiro’s words tumbling around in his head as he does so.

**~~~**

That night, with one hand between his thighs and the other covering his mouth, Keith’s mind is on replay – the image of Shiro dripping wet and standing over him flashing in his memories every time he blinks. He shuts his eyes and bites his lip, head dropping back to a pillow as he pleasures himself to the imagery of a practical stranger. Chest heaving, flushed to his navel, Keith slips up, coming with a muffled shout of Shiro’s name. Reality sets in quickly and he wishes for a little more shame as he cleans up for bed.

**~~~**

The castle teems with the busy bodies of diplomats. They rush about, signing ordinances, drafting paperwork, and doing whatever else they’re meant to. Keith takes little notice. He watches them work from his spot in the throne room, seated on his little chaise as they argue with each other about how to fund the war and which towns should be taxed more. Frequently, Keith tries to escape the mind numbing display, his own thoughts a few miles east and underwater, but every time a heavy hand grips his shoulder and guides him back to his spot.

“They will be gone in a few days. You can behave and listen to them for that long.”

With a sigh, Keith resigns, “Yes, Father.”

His submission seems to make the king happy; his reward is a bundle of gold coins. Keith already imagines what he will spend them on. This many can purchase one of the soft sheep’s wool blankets from the market he visits. He peeks inside the small satchel – perhaps a blanket and then the rest of the goods in the market. Tying the pouch to his pants, Keith leans against the back of the chaise, staring down at the chaotic display below with a hefty sigh. Only a few more days.

**~~~**

The second the diplomats are gone, Keith flees the castle. Out from his father’s watchful eye, he hastens to the village by the river, nearly out of breath when he arrives. Pulling his satchel from his waistband, he hands over the dozen gold coins to purchase the softest knit blanket the merchant has to offer. It’s dyed lavender and it feels like a cloud. They fold it and wrap it in parchment before handing it to Keith, thanking him for his patronage. Before leaving the market, Keith stops by the baker’s stand, picking up a few swiss rolls; he visits the produce stand, selecting the sweetest smelling strawberries; and he marvels at the blacksmith’s window, eventually weakening his resolve and buying a dazzling silver knife with a holster to match. With that, he begins his travel upstream.

Halfway there, Keith stops, his ears catching the sound of running in the distance. He grips his basket tightly, panic setting in as he walks faster, his pace quickening into a sprint. Realizing he is leading the person behind him directly to his favorites spot, Keith switches directions, jogging a few hundred feet before hiding behind a large oak tree. He takes a deep breath, trying to slow his breathing and silence himself, but it isn’t enough. Whoever was following him is still on his trail. Keith unsheathes his knife and braces himself for the worst.

The footsteps take on a normal pace, as they approach where Keith is hiding. Gritting his teeth, Keith wheels around and throws his knife in the direction of his pursuer. His blade sticks its landing in the trunk of another tree, having just barely grazed the man now standing in front of Keith.

Wide eyed and stunned, Shiro stares at Keith, jaw hanging open. Hand pressed to his neck, he frowns, trying to process what just happened.

“Shiro! I-I’m so sorry!” Keith drops his stuff and rushes the man, suddenly aware of their height difference as he tries to pry Shiro’s hand from his neck. “Did I hurt you?”

He forces a laugh, “You have a good aim. Or a bad one.” He draws his hand down, humming when he sees it coated in blood. “You just barely got me. But it’d be enough to scare someone away.” When he sees Keith’s panicked expression, he shakes his shoulder, trying to get the other man to snap back to reality. “I’m fine.”

Keith pulls Shiro’s hand into his own, shaking his head at the collection of blood. “We have to fix this.” He whimpers, “This is a mess. I’m so sorry.” He fumbles for his pack. “Here, let me-”

Shiro grabs his wrist when Keith reaches for the dripping cut on his neck. “I’m _fine_. It’ll stop bleeding eventually. You don’t need to worry.”

Feeling guilty, Keith collapses against the base of a tree. “How long were you following me?”

Pulling a rag from his pocket, Shiro wipes his hand and joins Keith on the ground. “I saw you in the market. I would have caught up to you immediately but I was waiting for the butcher and had already paid.” He snickers, “I didn’t think running after you would have freaked you out. I was calling your name, but I guess you didn’t hear me.” Offering Keith a gentle smile, Shiro pats his knee. “You want to go to the falls? It’s not that far off. And if I recall correctly, you owe me a story.”

At that, Keith laughs, “I’ll tell two for maiming you.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first posted this, I wasn't sure if anyone was actually going to like it - so a very big thank you to all the readers. Your kudos and comments validate and encourage me on the regular. You guys make writing during midterms worth it.

When they make it to the cave, and settle into Keith’s favorite spot, Shiro shakes his head at Keith. “Stop thinking about it.”

Keith’s tone is exasperated, “I could have killed you!”

“But you didn’t.” He pats the blanket. “C’mon. Sit beside me and tell me about your castle adventures.”

Grumbling, Keith does as he’s told. “What sort of adventure do you want to hear about?”

“You said things were good when you were a kid. Tell me about that.”

Keith stares down at his hands as he talks, circling his thumbs around one another. “It was a pretty simple time. I think that’s what I liked about it. I helped my mothers a lot. We’d clean the castle. Every so often I’d be allowed to wander the premises, but for the most part, I helped scrub floors, dust rooms, wash laundry, and the like. It wasn’t a very eventful childhood, but it was peaceful. I was loved, so that’s all that mattered.” When he looks up, Shiro’s expression is puzzled. “Did I say something wrong?”

“A few things. Mothers? I thought your father was a diplomat, where did mothers come from?”

“That’s a long story. My mothers were in a relationship before I was born. I came after. It was unexpected.”

“I see.” Shiro reaches into his pack and pulls out a bottle of wine, yanking free the cork and taking a drink. He hands it to Keith before his next question. “Your childhood. What you described? Those are the responsibilities of a slave within the castle.”

The bottle pops off Keith’s lips with a smack. “I know.”

“So your mothers were slaves? But if you’re the son of a diplomat then how-” Shiro breathes out an ‘oh’ before taking back the bottle of wine and drinking down a few inches. “I’m sorry for bringing it up; I didn’t realize-”

Keith cuts him off, “It’s fine. I’m used it by now.”

“How are you decked out in aristocratic clothes then? What happened?”

“To make a long story short, my mother was killed by the king when I was fourteen – a punishment for ‘errant behavior’.” He hesitates, “But that’s a story for another day. Anyway, my biological mother died of an illness when I was seventeen. I suppose my father had pity on me and took me under his wing. He still doesn’t acknowledge me as his son in front of others though.”

“Who's your father?”

Keith reclaims the wine, drinking for a long moment before he responds, “I can’t tell you that.”

“No?” Shiro scoots closer, suddenly very interested. “Why not?”

“My father forbids it. He’s too concerned with what it will say about him. An illegitimate child born of a slave? You can imagine the controversy, especially considering how old I am.” He swirls the bottle. “I may not like him, but I can’t risk that sort of information getting out.”

Shiro smirks, the wine finally reaching his head. “You can trust me…” He leans forward. “What if I promise to tell you _my_ secret? Would you tell me then?”

Keith hums, considering the proposition. “Is it a good secret?”

“Highly guarded, so yeah, I’d say so.”

Laughing, Keith nods. “Fine.” Despite them being the only two in the cave, he lowers his voice. “You might not believe me, but my father is Lord Zarkon.”

Shiro's warm expression dissolves instantaneously, his demeanor chilling. “What?”

Drawing away, Keith frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“You're the _prince_?”

Keith stutters, “N-No! I’m the king's bastard. He already has a son by the queen. _He's_ the heir to the throne. I’m just lucky to be alive.”

Shiro sighs, but the tension remains in his shoulders. “Good.”

“Why is that good?”

“Well, it has to do with my secret. A few years ago I was a general in Zarkon's army. I had worked up to the position quickly, only eighteen. What I didn’t know was how many officers died on a regular basis because of the nature of the war. When I got to the front lines, I finally realized why I ranked up so fast. It was slaughter. Every day, I witnessed the death of at least three of my men. It eventually became too much. After years of seeing the senseless carnage, I and my troop of soldiers defected. Zarkon didn’t like that. Most of them escaped his grasp, but I didn't.”

Stealing back the wine, Keith hugs the bottle to himself. “What happened?”

“Since you’re his son, you must know that he makes an example of people through executions.”

Keith soberly nods. “It’s his favorite pastime.”

“I don’t know if it was a good day or a bad day, but he let me live as an example – after fifty lashes. It was worse than any pain I’d ever felt during the war. I had a difficult time after that. I had nowhere to turn, but an old friend saw what happened and invited me to his home. Eventually, he convinced me to join the rebels.”

Voice nearly cracking, Keith shouts, “You’re a rebel?” He stands up abruptly, trembling. “I-I can’t be here.” He stumbles away from Shiro when he rises to his feet, reaching for Keith to calm him down. “Don’t-don’t touch me. I need to leave.” He thrusts the wine into Shiro’s hands and bends down to collect his things, hurriedly stuffing them into his knapsack.

“Keith. Keith, please.” Shiro huffs when he’s ignored. “ _Keith_ , stop. Why do you have to go?” He reaches for Keith’s arm but is swatted away.

“If my father finds out that I’ve been spending time with a rebel?” Keith shakes his head. “He has no regard for mercy, even for his son; he’ll kill me.”

“Whoa, hold on. Lord Zarkon doesn’t have to find out.”

At that, Keith looks up at Shiro. “What do you mean?”

Lowering to Keith’s level, Shiro matches his gaze. “Besides the friend that recruited me and the rebels themselves, no one knows who I am and what I do. As long as you keep it a secret, he’ll never know.” He lifts a hand to cup Keith’s face. “Please.”

Shutting his eyes, Keith takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

Shiro presses his forehead to Keith’s, sighing lightly, “Thank you.”

Keith’s lips itch, well aware of the proximity. He wonders if he could get away with it, but he doesn’t get the chance to find out. Shiro tilts his head forward, closing the short distance between the two of them. His lips softly capture Keith’s, pressing gently at first. He backs off before returning for a second kiss, and a third, and a fourth – each kiss more eager to elicit a response out of Keith. On the fifth, Keith groans and reaches up to wrap his hand around the back of Shiro’s neck. The kisses grow in desperation, breathy pants coming from both of them when they part, but neither want to stay away for too long.

Shiro shifts, knocking Keith back onto the blanket and crawling over him, planting kisses along his jaw and neck. Soft moans from Keith do nothing but encourage Shiro. He whispers a rough order in Keith’s ear to turn over and, without hesitation, the man does as he’s told. Shiro quickly pushes up Keith’s shirt and immediately stops, his hands freezing at Keith’s sides.

His voice shakes, “You… You have scars from being whipped?”

Keith rotates halfway. “Is that a problem?”

Shiro backs way, reacting as if he’s been burned. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Keith frowns. “What is going on?”

“I didn’t believe you.” Shame paints Shiro’s face as he drops something.

Keith recognizes it immediately. “That’s my knife.” His stomach churns. “Were you-” Throat dry, he barely croaks out the words, “-going to kill me?”

“You have to understand, my life has been _ruined_ by the king and his diplomats. They took everything from me. When I had the chance- I didn’t think twice.”

Without tearing his gaze away from the knife, Keith connects the dots, “Were you planning to kill me from the moment you saw me?” He struggles to his feet, snatching up his belongings. “Even after I told you about my mothers?”

Shiro doesn’t look up. The sadness in Keith’s voice is enough.

Keith picks up his blade, backing up toward the cave entrance. “And here I thought the worst people lived inside the castle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depending on how fast I get my head together (and how much free time I have), I may update this within a few days.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I accidentally posted chapter 3 in chapter 4's spot earlier, here is the actual content! So again, finals are crazy but I'm still trying to post as frequently as possible, but count on regular updates in December.
> 
> So this (for real this time) is where I like to think the story gets good.

When Keith arrives at the castle, it’s night and he's frustrated. Frustrated with himself, with his position, with his father, and with Shiro. He's angry at himself for thinking someone like Shiro could actually find him interesting. Lamenting all the way to his room, Keith shuts himself inside, locking the door and burying himself in his blankets and pillows. If his spirit is crushed, his body might as well be comfortable.

It’s days before he resurfaces. He reeks of stale sweat and misery. The first thing he begs for is a bath. It’s granted within the hour. He soaps himself down and sits in the water, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if tweaking his neck would give him a sense of reality. It doesn't. He sloshes out and, after dressing, wanders the halls of the castle. It makes him more miserable.

Armed with his knife and a bottle of wine from the kitchens, Keith approaches the mountain. He checks the perimeter and inside the cave as quietly as possible, but Shiro is nowhere to be seen. A little relaxed, Keith burrows down in his spot, drinking and reading until the sun is no longer visible from the crack in the mountain’s top. He hums happily, the alcohol blissfully buzzing away all those negative feelings he’s running away from. He sets off for the castle, barely making it before collapsing from a wine induced exhaustion.

The next three days play out the same. On the fourth day, he’s not alone. Keith stops at the bank of the river, his eyes meeting the unmistakable figure of Shiro in the falls. Despite what happened a week earlier, he doesn’t run. The wishful thinking part of his brain assures him that if Shiro really wanted him dead, he would be. His instincts scream at him to get out, but he doesn’t budge.

Shiro begins to move and suddenly Keith regrets his choice to do nothing. He glances around, scoping out his surroundings to figure out where to hide. But it’s too late for that. An audible gasp followed by a shout of his name hits Keith’s ears. He turns, wide eyed, to see Shiro sloshing through the water, racing toward him.

Before he realizes, Keith’s basket is hitting the ground, and his feet are in motion.

“NO! PLEASE! Keith wait! I want to talk to you!”

He doesn’t heed Shiro’s words, frantically running away from the sound of his voice. Despite being unsure of why he’s trying to escape Shiro, Keith doesn’t stop. He flees, legs pumping in full force as they carry him away from the river.

Shiro’s voice sounds distant, “Keith! Please! Talk to me!”

Keith buries himself a few hundred feet further into the forest before sinking to the dirt below. His chest heaves and his stomach hurts, so he rests. He drops his head to the tree behind him, breathing deeply, listening.

It’s quiet. He can hear rustling of leaves above him, but with summer in full swing, none are on the ground to warn him of oncoming foot traffic. Pulling his legs to his chest, the earth scrapes beneath his boots. Its volume tightens his heart.

Looking around, he doesn’t see Shiro. The realization brings a heat to his face, drowning him in chagrin. He’s still unsure of why he ran, but he does know he has to get the basket back. It was his mother’s. There’s no way he’s leaving that to be stolen.

By the time he’s on his feet, Shiro is a few paces away, holding the basket with a timid look. He presents it to Keith, expression warry of any unexpected running again.

“I figured you might want this back.”

Keith scans his form. Shiro’s dripping wet, but clad only in a pair of underwear and it doesn’t look like he’s hiding anything that he can weaponize. Sighing, Keith steps forward, reaching for the basket.

“Thank you.”

“Will you talk to me now?”

Keith examines the contents, making sure everything is there. “What about?”

Shiro inches forward. “I want- I _need_ to apologize.”

“For trying to kill me or for failing to do so?”

Shiro levels a tired expression at Keith. “For trying to kill you. I know it’s not fair to condemn you because of the things your father has done. I just got caught up in the idea of hurting someone who hurt me. It was wrong. _I_ was wrong. And I’m sorry.”

Keith nearly snarls, “You have no idea what he’s done to me. I’m nothing to him. Killing me would make his life better.”

“I know that now. I wish I had trusted you from the start.” He drops his head. “You have no reason to trust me, but I want to make it up to you. By any means.”

Keith stares him down, feeling apprehensive. “Why?”

“I let my anger and frustration with my own situation blind me to what you were saying. I completely disregarded what you had gone through, and I feel guilty about that. If you’ve experienced anything similar to what I have, you deserve better. And you did, but I didn’t give you that.” Shiro sighs, folding his hands together. “I regret what I did. I’ll understand if you don’t ever want to see me again, but-” He looks up at Keith, eyes pleading. “I just wanted you to know how sorry I felt.”

Picking at a stray string on the basket, Keith mulls the apology over, chewing his lip the whole while. “I have to know something.”

Shiro waits, attentive.

“If you wanted to kill me because my father is who he is, why kiss me?” He frowns. “You started undressing me. Why do all that if you knew you wanted me dead?”

Face turning bright red, Shiro crosses his arms. “I’m attracted to you.”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Were you seriously planning on seducing me before murdering me?”

Shiro groans, rubbing his fingers into his temples. “I was definitely planning on the first part. Killing you became a second thought when you started kissing back.”

“Then why stop when you saw my scars?”

“It made me realize that I was in the wrong, not believing you. I couldn’t continue – I knew it was unethical, considering what I had thought before.”

“So you _do_ have morals.” Keith hums, “You know, you could have just slept with me and never told me you wanted to kill me.” He looks up at Shiro. “So why say anything?”

“I guess somewhere in my frantic and confused mind, I thought you had a right to know.”

Shiro’s words tug at Keith’s heartstrings but he doesn’t let himself budge. “Sometimes feeling sorry doesn’t get you forgiveness.” He lowers his gaze to his hands. “I can’t just pardon you for trying to kill me because you feel guilty...”

Stepping back with a deep sigh, Shiro nods. “I understand.” He tries at a smile. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Watching Shiro walk away, Keith has never felt worse to see someone go.

~~~

A week passes before Keith ventures out to the river again. He’s hesitant, heart still stinging from when he let both him and Shiro down. Why he’s disappointed in himself in not forgiving attempted murder is troubling him, yet he desperately wants to see Shiro again.

The river flows undisturbed by anyone. Keith settles down at the edge of it, staring into the clear water, lamenting a little at the ache in his chest. But his heart stirs when he hears a rustle in the woods. He turns over his shoulder to greet the visitor but his voice fizzles upon realizing it isn’t Shiro.

The man raises an eyebrow. “What do we have here?” He shoots a glance to Keith’s piled belongings. “A castle dweller.”

Keith stammers out an excuse, “I-I’m a thief. I steal from the rich.” The redness flooding his cheeks gives away his lie. “They have the best stuff, you know?”

“That they do.” He saunters toward Keith, grinning. “But you look like you’ve slept in a nice bed, not seen the underside of society. If you really stole those, who from?”

Scrambling to his feet, Keith backs up toward the mountain, trapping himself between the rock, the river, and the ruffian. “I snatched them from the prince’s carriage.”

The man offers a crooked smile. “I know the schedules of all those high and mighty aristocrats and none tell me that there’s a prince in that castle.” He pulls a knife from his belt. “Looks like I’ve found a lost little rich boy.”

“Sendak.”

Keith’s racing heart slows for a moment, heat blossoming in his chest at the sound of Shiro’s voice. He peeks around the man in front of him to see Shiro standing by the river, blade in hand as he stares down the assailant.

“What do you want Shiro? This one’s mine fair and square. You find your own diplomat to fillet.”

“He’s not a diplomat, and he isn’t yours. Give up now and you’ll walk away unharmed.”

Sendak rolls his eyes toward Keith and stretches out his free hand, grasping him around the throat. “So this one is special to you then.” He grins when Keith sputters and claws at his wrist. “Come and get him.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Finals are done and here is the start to my four consecutive updates! I'll try to have a chapter up every Friday for the next four weeks, until I head back to university classes. 
> 
> Again, thank you for the continuous support. I hope everyone is enjoying this story.

Shiro is as fast as he is strong, but Sendak knows what’s coming. When Shiro lunges forward, he’s caught mid-step by the back of Sendak’s hand to his chest. He wheezes and stumbles back, but catches his footing and swipes his blade at Sendak. It rips through skin, causing an outcry of pain and leaving a spray of blood in its wake. Irate, Sendak abandons his hold on Keith, engaging with Shiro fully. Keith shrinks against the rocks, stomach flipping as he watches a man twice the size of Shiro charge him.

But Shiro’s smart. He easily slides out of Sendak’s path and jabs his blade forward, striking him beneath his sternum. Sendak growls and swings toward Shiro, knocking him to the ground, his own knife thirsty for blood.

Keith lets out a scream when Sendak sinks his blade between Shiro’s ribs, twisting it with a grin. Shiro swallows his pain, face reddening with the effort as Sendak slowly removes the knife and presses the tip against his throat, drawing a pool of blood.

“For all your effort, I’m just going to do worse by him now. Maybe I’ll take him before I gut him. Anything to hear his screams.”

Gritting his teeth, Shiro spits ‘bastard’ at Sendak with a spray of blood, as his fingers scrabble for his knife.

Realizing that Shiro has no defense, Keith tugs off a boot and pitches it at Sendak in a fit of panic, whacking him in the head. It’s enough of a distraction for Shiro to reach his dagger, mere inches from his fingertips. He gathers it in his hand and, without hesitation, strikes upward, burying the blade in Sendak’s throat. He yanks it free and shoves Sendak off before he can collapse. Doused in blood, Shiro rises to his feet, trembling as he catches his breath.

Keith pales at the sight of Sendak, choking and gurgling for what little air he can keep in his lungs. When Shiro hands him his boot, he grasps it blindly, staring at the dying man only a few feet away.

“You- You killed him.”

Drawing a handful of water to his face, rinsing himself clean, Shiro tries to ignore the alarm in Keith’s voice. “He would have done the same to both of us.” He stands, wincing and grabbing at his side. “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

Cautiously, Keith approaches Shiro, hand reaching to cover Shiro’s. “You’re injured. I can go get the nurse in the castle. She’s amazing when it comes to-”

“No. I’m not going to beg the king’s staff for help. I have resources of my own.”

“Where?” Keith pulls Shiro’s arm over his shoulders for support.

“My home. It’s not far from here.” He exhales slowly, attempting to moderate the pain. “Will you take me there?”

“Point the way.”

Across the river and south, just before the town, sits Shiro’s lonesome cabin. Its exterior is shabby, looking downtrodden and messy, but the interior reveals a put together and well-furnished home. Keith lets Shiro down on his bed and stands to the side, fidgety from worry.

Shiro nods toward a cabinet beside the door. “There should be clean cloth and medicinal plants in there. Boil a handful of herbs in some water and then soak the cloth.” He winces and checks his hand, groaning at the amount of blood dripping between his fingers. “I’ll need your help bandaging this when that’s done.”

Keith quickly does as he’s told, constantly glancing back at Shiro to see how he’s holding up. A film of sweat set on Shiro’s pale face concerns Keith. He tries to work faster.

When he’s finished, Keith wrings excess water out and presses the hot cloth to Shiro’s naked side, earning a grimace and a groan for his work.

As Shiro settles his hand over Keith’s, he breathes out a soft, “Thank you.”

Heart heavy in his chest, Keith brushes a hand over the puncture at the base of Shiro’s throat. He wets his fingers on the cloth and rubs at the drying blood. “Why did you do this? I don’t understand why you risked your life to save someone who doesn’t matter to you.”

“Forgiveness. I want to earn your forgiveness.”

“You’d get yourself killed for that?”

Shiro sighs, “You matter more than you think.”

Keith pulls his hand back. “I haven’t heard of anyone doing something so foolish since-” He drops his gaze, mind churning over his past, tainting the words on his tongue.

“Since?”

“It was just after I turned fourteen. My mother witnessed my father beat my biological mother and she retaliated. Defended her wife’s honor by being what the king called ‘insubordinate and criminal’. I don’t know exactly what she did. My biological mother never told me, or she might have never known exactly herself. But whatever she did, it got my mother killed. The king struck her down in front of a crowd of jeering diplomats. I like to think that whatever she did, it is the reason the king is permanently bald.” Keith snickers, “She always had a way of shaming people who were cruel, even after her death.”

“Sounds like she loved your mother very much.”

“She did. But I had a hard time forgiving her for being foolish enough to die for love.”

Shiro wheezes out a laugh, “You hadn’t been in love yet.”

“And who says I have?”

Shiro’s confidence isn’t that of a wounded man. “The worry on your face.”

Keith’s cheeks heat up and he looks away, stealing a glance at the floorboards. He can hear Shiro’s smug expression, so he doesn’t try to restrain his words, “I don’t have to be in love with you to not want you to die.”

Breath laboring, Shiro tries at happier tone. “Pity. And here I thought I was making good progress.”

“You can try again tomorrow.”

“If I live through the night.”

Keith’s heart seizes, and his lower lip trembles. “That’s not something to joke about.”

Shiro searches Keith’s face while uttering his next question. “So you’ll come see me tomorrow?”

“Would you like that?” Keith’s tone is more eager than he’d like it to be.

Nodding, Shiro smiles. “It’d make surviving this wound a little more worth it.”

“Only a little?”

~~~

Every day for the next week, Keith travels past his beloved river to visit Shiro. And every day he brings something with him: medicine pilfered from the nurse, vegetables and fruit plucked from the gardens, and, right from the baker’s oven, biscuits won with the bat of his lashes.

Shiro stuffs a jam filled roll into his mouth with a hum, ignoring Keith’s presence as he chews. Keith sits on the edge of the bed, smiling as he combs his fingers through Shiro’s hair.

“You seem to be doing better today.”

“Whatever medicine you took from the castle has been working. I don’t feel so tired, and it doesn’t hurt as much today.” He peeks underneath the bandage wrapped around his chest. “The redness has left as well. You did a good job stitching it up.”

Shuddering, Keith expresses his distain, “I’d rather not do that again. Ever.”

“I appreciate it though.” Shiro drops his head to Keith’s chest, staring up at him with a smile. “You’ve helped me so much these last few days.”

Keith slides a hand down the side of Shiro’s face and lets it sit on his chest, insides heating up. He shoves down bubbling emotions and clears his throat. “I owed you.”

“You really didn’t.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you die.” He pulls his hand back and stands abruptly. “I’ll leave the basket for you.”

“Wait-” Shiro sits up with a grunt, resting against the wall for support. “where are you going?”

“My father will be expecting me. I have to go back.”

Shiro’s eyebrows knit together and he pouts, “Why?”

“Dignitaries. They’re coming from all edges of the kingdom. He wants me home, out of trouble. I’m sorry.” He glances toward the door, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions in check. “I might not see you for a few days. I hope you’ll be okay.”

“Keith...”

“Stay safe. I’ll be back when I can.”

Keith turns for the door. Hand over the knob, he hesitates before turning a heel and rushing Shiro. He holds Shiro’s face in his hands, brushing his thumb over Shiro’s jaw. Before he can say a word, Keith leans down and kisses him. He pulls away quickly, face flushed, and hurries to the door, leaving without so much as a farewell.

Shiro laughs and bites down on a smile, feeling giddier the more he thinks about what just happened.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honest hour - I'm not feeling this story anymore and I don't feel like there is much interest in it. Those things considered: I'm ending it here. As of right now, this will be the last chapter of this fic. I may return to it later, but don't hold your breath.
> 
> I hate not finishing a story to my initial vision, but there are other plots I'm more invested in that will hopefully garner better reactions. Sorry guys. If you have questions - about the story or anything - I'll be happy to answer them.

Kept to himself in the castle, hidden away from the diplomats, Keith listens to the whispers in the walls – war is coming. Some argue that the already raging battle between the monarchy and a disgruntled people is the worst that could happen, the others warn of something graver brewing in the shadows of the kingdom. Keith wonders if it has anything to do with the people Shiro associates with.

As the days grow colder, the diplomats leave and so does Keith, off to the forest as if a day was never missed. Shiro greets him with a warm hug and the expectant look of wanting a kiss. Keith obliges him too eagerly.

“How was dealing with the rich and infamous?”

Curling up on a blanket in front of the fire, Keith yawns. “Just as you’d expect. Though they did gossip about something particularly interesting.”

“Oh?”

“They don’t know what it is, but they think the rebels are planning something big.” He glances up at Shiro with a grin. “Do you happen to know what that plan is?”

Shiro pales, biting his lip in silence.

Keith sits up. “What is it?”

“I’m aware of what the plans are.”

“But you won’t tell me?”

“It would only put you in danger.”

“It sounds like you don’t trust me.”

Sighing, Shiro shakes his head. “It’s not like that. Our leader retrieved intel that nearly cost her life. Simply telling you, when you have no stake in our plans? It’s an unnecessary risk.” He brushes his thumb across Keith’s cheek. “I don’t want to put you in harm’s way any more than you are being with me.”

“At least tell me what it’s about.”

Shiro drops his hand and rolls his eyes. “Persistent. Fine. It has to do with the prince.”

“Lotor? He’s dead.”

Nodding, Shiro lowers his voice, “That’s what I heard too. But our leader found out that King Zarkon had spread the rumor to prevent attempts on the prince’s life. Apparently he runs part of the army under a pseudonym. No one knows that he’s really royalty.”

“But what does this have to do with your plans? If he’s alive that means the King’s ruse has worked.”

“That’s the thing. Apparently on the winter’s solstice, King Zarkon is finally going to present his son to the kingdom as the prince and his rightful heir. The rebels have already secured means of entry to that event.”

Keith grows quiet. “You mean to kill him.”

“No one overseeing a squadron in the army is a kind person, and if he’s been raised as a military man, the country will have no hope after Zarkon. His lineage must end with Lotor.”

“And what of me?”

Shiro sighs, “You’re... complicated. Ideally, the rebels don’t want an offspring of Zarkon surviving.”

Trembling, Keith tries to stand, but is dragged down by Shiro, who’s speaking fast. “But no one knows that you’re Zarkon’s son any more than they know what Lotor looks like. All we have to do is stay quiet until the dust clears and we can have a happy life. Free from the oppression your father has brought onto this kingdom.” He tucks a lock of Keith’s hair behind his ear and kisses his forehead. “I swear, I won’t let any harm come to you. I’d die before that happens.”

Keith manages a smile. “One kiss and you’re in for the long haul.” He steals a kiss from Shiro’s lips and nods. “Alright. I’ll trust you.”

**~~~**

A week until the solstice, on his way to see Shiro, Keith freezes at the call of his name. He turns to see Zarkon sauntering toward him, a wrapped box in hand.

“Good morning, Father.”

The man offers a partial smile and presents the package. “I’m glad I caught you. This was recently found and I thought it best to go to you.”

Keith takes it cautiously and tears into the paper, stunned to see the contents.

“If I recall correctly, that is the book of fairy stories your mothers once read to you. I know this castle may not always feel like a home, but I hope that this gesture will remind you that this is where you belong, Son.”

Glancing up, Keith blinks through tears. “Thank you. I don’t know how to express my gratitude.”

Zarkon nods. “I understand. Memories can be overwhelming. So long as you remember who you are, I will accept that as gratitude enough. If you like, I will keep it in the library for you to visit any time.”

Keith bows slightly, handing the book back. “I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

He hurries off, the king’s watchful gaze following him out the door.

Snapping, Zarkon summons his lackey. “Follow him.”

 

When Keith arrives at Shiro’s, he’s ushered in quickly. Shiro rubs at his pink cheeks with warm hands.

“You can catch your death out there.” He shivers for effect and takes Keith’s coat. “You’re making me glad I stocked up on firewood a long time ago. Nothing’s worse than having to beat out an impending snowstorm.”

Keith exhales slowly. “Yeah.”

“Something on your mind?”

“It’s nothing.” Keith smiles and holds out his hand.

Shiro takes it, pulling him toward the bed.

“Well if it’s nothing, then I have something.” He sits in front of Keith, both their hands in his lap. “I’ve been struggling with this for a while, but honestly I should just come out and say it.” He pauses, watching Keith carefully. “I love you.”

A moment passes where nothing but the crackling of the fire can be heard before Keith rushes Shiro. He kisses him fervently, pressing his lips to Shiro’s jaw, throat, chest, and back up to his lips. Shiro wraps his arms around Keith and presses him back into the bed, returning the kisses with as much vigor.

Just as Shiro ruts up against his hips and leans in for another kiss, Keith holds him back, hand planted on Shiro’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

Keith’s voice is soft – ashamed of the panic he’s stirred in Shiro – almost a whisper, “I can’t do this.”

“Are we moving too fast? Because I get it, I just told you how I feel and that’s-”

“It’s not that.” He sighs, “Something is bothering me.”

“Tell me.”

“Whether I like it or not, you’re still a rebel. I’ve done enough damage consorting with you all this time, but sleeping with you? While knowing what your group is planning? I’d... I’d be betraying my father. His whole kingdom.” Keith drops his hand and covers his face. “I’m sorry. I know he’s a horrible man, but he’s the only family I have left. I can’t- I won’t betray him like this.”

Shiro loosens his grip on Keith’s waist and sits back on his feet. “What are you saying?”

“It’s probably for the best that we don’t see each other anymore.” Keith drags a shuddering breath between his lips. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracks, “This has to be goodbye.” He sits up and hastily puts on his coat, feeling Shiro’s gaze boring holes into his back.

As Keith walks to the door, Shiro still watches him, his face an array of emotion. When he speaks, the sound scrapes past his vocal cords, a melancholy utterance, “I don’t want to forget you.”

Dropping his head, Keith shuts his eyes, choking on the sadness rising in this throat. He reaches for the door and Shiro cripples him.

“Please stay.”

“Shiro...”

“Just let us have tonight. Then tomorrow we can go back to our old lives, before we met, and pretend like this never happened.”

Keith scoffs, “Could you even do that?”

“If you need me to, I’ll try.”

“And what about me? You expect me to act like you don’t matter?”

“The sooner you leave the sooner you have to.” He stands, placing himself between Keith and the door. “Just one night. Please.”

Keith drags his hands down Shiro’s chest, his thumb brushing over the rough scar on his ribs. “Just one night.”

Shiro presses a kiss to Keith’s neck and reaches down to hoist him up. He drops him on the bed and crawls over him, smattering kisses across Keith’s throat. It doesn’t take long for him to get Keith out of his clothes, he’s been wanting this too.

Keith gets lost in the way that Shiro handles him, so gentle but rough enough that he feels every inch of Shiro’s body on his own. The way he kisses him, holds him, thrusts into him, and breathes his name – all of it so visceral and real. He moans out Shiro’s name, begging for more. He needs more of Shiro, all of him.

Between kisses his mind screams: this can’t be it. But it is. And as quick as it all started that one day by the river, Keith chokes down a sob and holds onto Shiro for dear life, knowing it’s over.

As he drifts into sleep against Shiro’s chest, Keith wonders if it was the right decision to choose family over a fairy tale romance. Then again, his mother died for her love. He sighs and closes his eyes, willing the thoughts away and delighting in Shiro’s warmth for at least one night.

 

In the morning, Keith finds it difficult to leave. Shiro kisses him and mutters things under his breath, stroking back his hair and forcing sad smiles. He doesn’t want to let go of Keith’s hands. Shiro walks him to the door and wraps an extra coat around his shoulders.

“Stay warm.” He sniffles and sighs, “I love you.”

Keith hugs Shiro tightly, his voice a whisper. “I love you too.”

Shiro forces a laugh, “I’m starting to think that this is the real punishment for deserting Zarkon’s army.” He huffs out his exasperation and gently pushes Keith away, brushing his fingers across his cheek. “Think we could ever have us again?”

“Maybe one day.” Keith kisses Shiro again and backs out the door, greeting the end of night with a heavy heart.

 

Dawn has already broken by the time Keith sees home. The forest chirps with the sound of birds and shifts with the dewy morning. He minds them not a bit of attention, racing for the castle instead. Out of breath, and just barely beating the sun to the fortress, Keith rushes indoors. He hurries through the corridors, desperately hoping that the castle staff hasn’t noticed and reported his absence. Reaching the dining hall, he lets out a held breath. No one is around yet. He makes a break for his quarters on the other side of the room.

“Keith.”

He skids into the wall and faces the man who called him. It’s his father’s pet snitch. “Good morning, Throk.”

The guard skips formalities, “The king waits for you in his chambers.” He glances at the wad of cloth in Keith hands. “If you come bearing gifts, might I suggest the head of a traitor, not the clothes of one.”

Voice quiet, Keith turns toward his door. “I just need to set my things down fir-”

“He requests you immediately. Any delay will surely rile his anger.”

Holding Shiro’s coat close, he follows Throk to the throne room, where his father is seated and waiting.

Zarkon taps his fingers against the gilded arm of his throne, face placid and uninterested until Keith is standing before him. He folds his hands and sits forward. “You’re home late.”

Keith blood chills. “I’m sorry. I accidently fell asleep.”

“Asleep? Where?”

“The cavern by the river.”

He gestures to the window. “Snow began to fall last night. Do you expect me to believe that lie?”

Biting his tongue, Keith remains silent, ashamed to have been caught in the lie.

Zarkon stands and summons Throk to his side. “If you won’t tell me the truth, perhaps someone more trustworthy can. Please, repeat the details you told me earlier today.”

“As you instructed, I followed Keith to his destination yesterday evening. He visited a house in the middle of the forest, belonging to a man. He let this man take him before falling asleep in his arms.”

“Come now, Throk. Don’t leave out the best detail. Who was this man?”

“Takashi Shirogane.”

Zarkon steps down from the platform, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Yes, Shirogane the traitor. My son fornicated with the man who singlehandedly destroyed a quarter of my army. The man who stole away my best generals and soldiers.” He stands before Keith, towering over him. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Keith shrinks to the floor, kneeling before his father. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” He laughs, “You’re not going to say it was a mistake? Claim you had no idea who he was? Promise me you had no intentions of letting it go that far?” He scoffs, “Sorry. You don’t have a single remorseful bone in your body.” He grabs Keith by the throat, hauling him to his feet. “You wanted him. The dashing ex-commander crippled you with his charm and wit. How could such a pitiful creature such as yourself stand to say no to him?” Zarkon pushes Keith to the ground and snaps at the guards standing by. “Bring my manacles and switch.”

“No!”

“Ah, there’s a reaction.”

“Father, please! You don’t have to do this! I won’t see him again. I promise.”

“Of course you won’t. You’re not allowed to leave this castle anymore. And if I ever see him, mark my words he will be slaughtered and you will watch. You disobeyed me by staying out all night, but what’s worse is you betrayed me.” He grabs his crop from the guard as they drag Keith behind the throne, chaining him to the post behind it. “You betrayed me, my castle, my armies, and my kingdom.” He unfurls the switch. “You chose to be a traitor when you became the lover of one.”

“Please! Have mercy. I know I made a mistake! That’s why I came home.”

Zarkon’s taunting tone vanishes, leaving a cold unfeeling voice. “I’ve wasted enough mercy on you. I pulled you from your wretched beginnings. I gave you residence within my home. I treated you well, fed you well, gave you anything you desired, and disgrace is how you repay me? I’m sick of mercy.”

Keith hears the crack of the whip before he feels it. It tears through his clothes, striking his back, splitting his skin like an axe to a tree. Keith’s vision turns white and he falls forward, unsteady hands catching him as a scream rips from his throat. He can’t hear over the buzzing in his ears, but every lash against his skin rings like a church bell in his head, shattering his senses with chaos.

At one point, he begs for his father to stop, but the lashes snap harder. Forgiveness is not even an afterthought, Keith pays the price in pain. His pleas fall dead on the ground, swimming amongst his tears that dash against the floor.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts. He shakes violently, numb by the end. His blood paints the tile in drips and smears, garish against the white crystal. Keith doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know if he can.

When his senses refocus, Keith can hear a guard speaking.

“Should we take him to his quarters, your Majesty?”

“If you want to do something useful, wash my switch. I don’t need it staining. He can stay there for a day or two. Let him think about what he’s done.”

The guard leaves and Zarkon speaks up again. “Throk?”

“Yes, my Liege.”

“Gather your best men and take them to Shirogane’s home.”

“Would you like us to kill him?”

Zarkon hums. “No. He needs to suffer for what he did to my son. Bring him here in chains. I want to take his life myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a cliffhanger, so again, if you have questions - about the story or anything - I'd love to answer them, just message me on tumblr @starlightshirogane


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